Silence- Larry/Ziam AU

Chapter One

In this story, Zayn is 14, Louis is 17, Liam is 21, and Harry is 20. There will not be any smut in this story, so if that's what you're looking for, I'm sorry. This is my first story like this. I just had the idea, and I had to write it.

.:.Zayn.:.

I quickly run to the closet, closing the bedroom door as I ran. I made it to the closet, and settled myself under the clothes hanging from above.

"Where are you, little bitch?!" He screamed.

The bedroom door was thrown open. I stopped breathing, the only sound was my heart, rapidly beating. I didn't move, hoping he would move on to a different room. Maybe get bored and go to a bar. But it was no use. The closet door was opened, and I was thrown out onto the floor in a matter of seconds.

"Try to hide, like the little pussy you are." He sneered.

He pulled back his leg, and kicked me in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air. He moved onto my back, kicking my kidneys. I screamed, as loud as my lungs could allow. He kept kicking, not minding my kidney problems.

"Stop crying!" he yelled, kicking harder. It caused my screams to become louder.

He bent down, and punched me in the throat. I stopped screaming, but the tears continued. I tasted blood in my mouth. My throat felt scratchy, and I couldn't swallow. I felt dizzy. He smirked.

"Just like your mother. Unable to defend herself. Helpless. Worthless. Weak."

It took all the energy I had in me to lift my head, and spit. A red substance flew from my mouth to his face. His face turned with rage and kicked me once more in the back.

The last thing I heard was sirens and a curse word from him before blackness hit me.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I looked out the window as the social worker talked to me. It has been three weeks since he has been arrested, since the trip to the hospital. I was in the hospital up until now, and they were discussing what to do with me. Since my stepfather killed my mother, and my father died when I was a baby, I have no one to go to.

The social worker, Elizabeth, was saying they were sending me to a small orphanage in Doncaster.

"Is that alright?" she asked. I looked up at her.

"Zayn? If it not we can-"

"He doesn't speak," someone interrupted her. It was one of the nurses who had taken care of me over the weeks. I think his name was Anthony or something.

Elizabeth looked behind her.

"He's mute?" she asked.

"Selectively, yes."

She turned her attention back to me.

"When did this start?" She asked Anthony.

"We don't know. He was like this when he came in. There is some damage to his vocal cords, but he is still perfectly able to talk."

She nodded, comprehending the information.

"Zayn, why don't you talk?" Elizabeth asked me.

I just stared at her blankly.

She sighed. "Do you know sign language?"

I hesitated before nodding.

She smiled. "Good. I can sign some myself. Maybe we could have little secret conversations."

Not really. I thought.

"Will you sign to me?"

I thought for a second. Sign what? I could sign anything. I've been signing since I was little. My younger brother became deaf because of my stepfather. He hit his ears everyday. He kept hitting until my brother couldn't hear anymore. So I learnt sign language. That's how we communicated until he was taken away. To this day I don't know where he is.